nwo_potts (nwo_potts) wrote in nwo_shield, @ 2008-07-01 00:33:00 |
|
|||
He didn't mean to run into her, it just sort of happened.
He'd been watching for a man, a son of a bitch drug dealer that peddled his wares to kids who didn't know any better, kids for whom education was a pipe dream and a better life was always just out of reach. They took his poison gladly and he collected their money, not caring if they died off because just behind them, a couple of birthdays away, there was a new crop of addicts waiting to be made. Frank hated the guy, despised everything that he stood for, and he'd been staking out a take-out joint that he frequented, hoping to get a quick, clean kill shot.
He'd gone in, sure enough, and Frank watched from across the street, his eyes narrowed as the bastard picked up his bag of Chinese food and peeled off a twenty from a roll as big as his fist. Dirty money. Frank intended to take it and dump it in the collection box of the big Catholic church a couple of blocks down, maybe help out some of the kids that this guy had fucked up. Safely concealed in an alleyway, he leveled his rifle and took aim at the door, waiting for the scumbag to set foot outside. The street was nice and deserted, perfectly safe--
--and then there she came, striding along in impossible heels and ruining his perfect shot. Frank cursed softly, tucked the rifle quickly into a modified guitar case, and buttoned his coat over the skull on his chest. The woman was dressed incredibly well, too well for this part of town. "Hey!" he called, jogging across the street. "Lady! Don't you know this place ain't safe?"
After that disastrous phone call with Dr. Banner (which she was blaming on sleep deprivation, thank you very much), Pepper had decided she needed out of the office. It'd only been six weeks since Tony's public announcement and she felt like she'd been living in her office since. The amount of phone calls, and emails and other assorted communication had been just astronomical and if she'd gone home to her cozy condo, she never would've accomplished anything.
Once she'd stepped outside of the office, she'd realized how much she'd missed fresh air, so turning down Happy's gracious offer of a ride, she'd started to walk, not really caring - or noticing for that matter - where she was going.
Of course, 10 blocks later, she was damning Mr. Blahnik, and considering selling her kidney for a cab. It was about that point, that she was startled by a man, yelling at her about the safety of where she was.
"Safe?" Did that sound as stupid out of her mouth as it did in her head? She hadn't even realized where she was, and while she wanted to admit this to this man, she had her reputation. "What exactly are you talking about? You're out here, I'm sure it's plenty safe."
"Miss, I'm a hell of a lot bigger than you are," Frank answered, resisting the urge to grab her by the arm and hustle her into a cab. "And I'm not wearing ridiculous heels." He didn't care if she took that the wrong way, he was just trying to get her out of here. She was a pretty little thing with bright, intelligent eyes. He'd hate to have to go after the scumbag who hurt her.
Frank glanced down at her again and frowned. There was something about her face, her profile in particular, that looked very familiar to him. He racked his brain and came up with absolutely nothing. "Do I know you?": Pepper resisted an urge to responed with 'You wish' but after he'd mentioned it, she put both hands on her hips and thought. "I really have no idea if we know each other or not. You do look slightly familiar, but then again, everyone does if you look at them hard enough."
Against her better judgment, she extended a hand, "My name is Pepper."
"Potts," he said immediately, almost groaning. Christ Almighty, he was tramping down the street with Tony fucking Stark's personal secretary. "Isn't your asshole boss rich enough to buy you a car, honey? Jesus." He took her hand but instead of shaking it, he began to tug her gently down the street. "Come on, you gotta get out of here."
Mentally he cursed Stark for being an idiot and for not taking care of what he had. He snuck another quick look at her and snorted. She was way too good for Stark.
Startled, she looked up at him with a wide-eyed expression. "You know, when I offered my hand, it was with the expectation of it getting shook, not pulled alongside the road like a naughty child." Needless to say, this was not how she had pictured her walk. Yanking on his hand, she stopped mid-stride. "And, not that it's any of your business, but Mr. Stark is not an asshole. He provided me with transportation but I refused."
Frowning, she tried to put on her best 'No comment face'. It intimidated the press, it would do for this situation. "And another thing. I hardly think it's appropriate for you to be dragging me along the sidewalk without even the courtesy of telling me your name."
"Frank," he answered, slightly taken aback by her attitude. He was accustomed to having people listen when he spoke, but then again he was usually speaking to men that he was about to execute. He hadn't dealt with a woman in... God, in years. "Look, Ms. Potts, I'm just trying to help you out here. Are you gonna let me, or are you gonna stand here and fight with me?"
She took a deep breath, still feeling unwary. At least he was calling her Ms. Potts. "Frank," she paused, "where exactly do you propose going? I mean, as you keep pointing out, I don't exactly belong in this neighbourhood. I have no idea where anything is, and just walking in a random direction has no appeal to me."
And oddly enough, she was still holding onto his hand.
"I'm taking you out of the neighborhood," Frank snapped. He glanced around, tugged her down a side-street. Somehow, he felt vaguely stupid whenever she spoke, and it was beginning to unnerve him. Her hand was very small in his, and very smooth, and it made him deeply, hugely nervous. "Trust me, hon, I know my way around here."
At least she hadn't caught on to who he was just yet. He'd like to spare himself that conversation for as long as possible. He didn't exactly have the greatest reputation in the world, after all.
She wasn't sure she liked all the pet names he was tossing around like they were nothing. Hon. Honey. She was used to being called Pepper, with the occasional Pep thrown in there, just to mix it up.
"See, then we're back to the original argument. How come it's safe for you and not for me? Size doesn't matter. You know who I work for, you really think he'd leave me defenseless?" Even though she was arguing, she was still following him. He really did know the way around. "Plus, if you're saying this neighbourhood is so dangerous, how do I know you're a safe person? You could be a rapist for all I know." She stopped and looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Are you a rapist, Frank?"
Frank stopped short and turned to stare at her incredulously. "Are you serious?" he demanded. "I'm Frank Castle, lady. I don't rape women, I kill the bastards that do!" He had never been so infuriated and yet simultaneously confused in his entire life. Fine, so maybe she just didn't know his face. But she'd know his name, at least. He was sure Stark had bitched about him at least once or twice.
Oh. Fuck. Me. This was Frank Castle? This was the crazy lunatic Tony liked to whine and moan about. She felt like she should either giggle or run away; two things Pepper Potts never did. The only thing she was sure about? She'd offended yet another person today. She really needed to get some sleep.
"Well, while murder is hardly applaudable, Mr. Castle," Now that she had a last name, it was hardly appropriate to continue calling him by his first. "I'm glad to know you have no intention of raping me. I just don't like being clueless as to my destination. If you could please, just fill me in?" She smiled slightly, enough for her dimple to show. "I would very much appreciate it."
Frank kind of stared at her for a minute, briefly enchanted by her dimple, then shook himself and gave her a more gentle tug. "We're just going to a nicer part of town, Ms. Potts," he answered, his voice gruff. He was deeply frustrated with himself, certain that she was making a fool out of him. Honestly, though, how long had it been since he talked to a beautiful woman?
"We'll get you a cab so you don't have to walk in those," he continued, glancing down at her shoes. Her ankles were gorgeous. "Even though they're very nice."
Tony never noticed her shoes. He just noticed that she was taller than him in them. "No, I don't want a cab. These expensive shoes are actually a sight more comfortable than they appear," she said, wriggling a foot out in front of her.
Why was it Tony thought this man was nuts? He seemed nice enough to her. "Right, like I said, no cab. Mr. Castle, do you have any idea how long I've been cooped up inside, sitting in front of a phone and a computer? I wanted fresh air and a change of pace, and it seems I got both. I have no intention of deviating from my original plan, so you can either acquiesce, or go your own way. I think I know where I am now, " - she didn't - ", so please, don't feel concerned with leaving me here."
Frank sighed softly, closed his eyes. Why were the pretty ones always so difficult. "Regardless of whether you know where you are, it's still a dangerous city. You shouldn't be wandering around."Sure, Frank, you keep telling yourself that. Idiot. He knew perfectly well that once they got another two or three blocks, things would start to look nicer again and she'd be fine. But... it couldn't hurt to see her that far, could it?
"Look, let me just walk with you until we get to a better part of town," he said, reluctantly dropping her hand. "Is that okay?"
She felt like she should pout at the sudden loss of warmth from her hand. That being said, that emotion was quickly replaced with a confusion as to why she would even care. Nodding, she gave him a wide smile. "That would be more than acceptable thank you, as long as you're sure you're not interrupting anything important."
Looking down at his guitar case, she continued. "Such as busking. I understand that some corners are worth more than others. I would hate for you to lose out on anything because you've taken it upon yourself to walk me home."
Frank cleared his throat and switched the case to his other hand, making it harder for her to stare at it. "Ma'am, that's not a guitar," he murmured, trying to keep his voice down. There were other people around now, and he had never seen the sense in causing a riot if he could help it. "It's a 9mm semi-automatic rifle."
Was nothing to be normal in her life? How was it, that she hounded Banner for information just hours ago, and here was this man she'd never met before, being as honest as she could've ever hoped for. Damn S.H.I.E.L.D., she cursed in her head.
"Of course it is," she said, softly. "Why wouldn't it be? You're S.H.I.E.L.D." She suddenly felt very tired.
"I think you were right before, Mr. Castle. A cab ride would be lovely. Would you please call me one?"
Frank cleared his throat and stepped to the curb, gesturing for her to follow. "I don't work for S.H.I.E.L.D., Ms. Potts," he said, watching cars fly past, waiting for an empty cab "I just do favors for Fury every once in a while." It was an important distinction that he felt he had to make.
A cab came flying down the street and Frank raised a hand, watching ruefully as it pulled up to the curb. He should have just kept his fucking mouth shut about the guitar case. At least then he would have had some company. "There you go," he said, gesturing to the idling cab and stepping back. "Have a nice night."
Surprised she turned to him. "You're not coming with me?," she blurted out before she'd had a chance to censor herself. Even though he kept referring to Tony, this was one of the first conversations she'd had in a long time that wasn't about work or anything else.
She scooted over to the far side of the cab and gave him the patented 'Pepper Potts puppy dog eyes'. "Please?"
Frank could only stare at her, mouth open in idiot surprise. When was the last time anyone had wanted him to go anywhere with them? Especially when the anyone in question was a beautiful, capable woman? "With you?" he asked. "Where are you even going?"
Before he'd even finished the question, he was tucking the guitar case into the cab and climbing in beside her, baffled as to how she'd managed to so thoroughly surprise him.
Stark Mansion had never been the option that night, so it only left the one. "My place. 206 Ventura Place," she said to the cab driver. He nodded, and pulled away from the curb. "It's not Stark Mansion, but it's home. Are you hungry? I'm not an amazing cook, but I think I can manage enough to feed you."
He still looked surprised. "It's really the least I could do, after all your chivalry today." Oh this was too much fun, she thought. Now we're on my turf, buddy.
"I can't," Frank said. Christ, he still had things to do tonight! That shitheel had escaped temporarily, but if he started soon, he could take the guy out before the sun came up. The urgency of his mission came flooding back to him and he looked out the window if only to avoid staring at the way Pepper's hair reflected the street lights. "I have things to do. But thank you."
She pouted. Was he seriously turning her down? "Well," she said, putting on a smile, "I can understand only too well. Work has a tendency to continue, even after you've decided it should stop."
Frank warred with himself briefly. There was the job, of course, but... well, the bastard had done his dealing for the day. He wouldn't be back at it until late afternoon tomorrow. If he got up early, he could catch the guy at his stinking little apartment...
"What were you thinking about making?" he asked. It was the Italian in him. If she said anything about salad, he would be out of the cab so fast she'd think he had rockets strapped to his ass.
Now she smiled for real. "Going to be honest, I have no idea. Anything you'd like really. Even though I'm always at Mr. Stark's mansion, I do try to keep a fairly well-stocked fridge at home. Anything that I feel will go bad before I manage to eat it, I generally donate to the church across the street from me. They have a soup kitchen at night." She knew she was rambling, but they were nearing her house and she wanted to ensure he came in with her. God Pepper, you're acting like Tony, she thought to herself, but those thoughts weren't stopping her.
"Really. I'm sure I could make just about anything."
Frank turned to watch her for a moment, studying the graceful lines of her face. He couldn't believe that she was so hard up for company that she would ask him up for dinner, but it seemed that that was exactly what was happening and, truth be told, he was inclined to just go along with it.
"Can I ask you a question first? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to." He waited and she didn't protest, so he fixed her with a hard stare, watching to see that she told the truth. "You obviously know who I am. Why the hell are you inviting me up to have dinner with you?"
She thought about it before answering.
"In my line of work, Mr. Castle, I've found that, while it's nice to hear others' opinions regarding someone, it's even nicer to form one's own opinion." And this was true enough. Pepper hated being labelled as JUST Mr. Stark's personal assistant, and had learned early on that those types of labels stick. Because of this, she'd always refused to listen to any gossip and if she couldn't get away from it, she'd always promised herself that she would make her own opinions. Case in point.
"Besides," she added, "you noticed my shoes."
"I did notice your shoes," Frank laughed, glancing down at them again. Ridiculous, torturous looking things, but she wore them so well. "They look painful." He paused, considering how far he could go before she threw him out of the cab.Although, she had asked him to dinner, knowing that he was carrying a rifle in a guitar case. It didn't seem like there was a whole lot that would scare a woman like her off.
"And they make your ankles look great," he added, grinning crookedly at her. The last woman he'd flirted with had been his wife. He wondered if he sounded awkward, and decided he didn't really care.
She laughed. "My ankles?" Looking down, she furrowed her brow. "Really?" She'd been complimented on her nose, her skin, her eyes, her hair..well basically every body part, but never her ankles. "Thank you?" He'd rendered her speechless. Impressive.
She tried to think of a compliment back that was equally as obscure, but luckily, the cab pulled up at her house. Reaching in her purse for some money, she paid the cabbie and opened the door. "Come on now," she said to Frank. "Let's see if any of my plants are still alive."
For some reason, he found it painfully sweet that she had houseplants, and he followed her willingly up to the apartment building, a faint smile on his face. How the hell had he gone from trying to get a woman out of danger to taking a cab ride with her to going up to her apartment? Hell if he knew, and he was determined not to think about it too much. Surprisingly, he was kind of enjoying feeling something that wasn't anger or sick satisfaction.
Bracing herself, she opened the door. As she wasn't assaulted by the smell of death, she concluded that nothing had perished during her absence. Tossing her keys in the dish, she kicked her heels off and couldn't help but sigh in relief. She'd lost four inches in height, but damn did the tiles feel good on her feet.
"Just make yourself at home. I just need to change out of my business clothes. They're too expensive to cook in, "she called, as she made her way to her bedroom.
Frank watched her go, a bemused look on his face.Even out of the heels, she had pretty ankles, and he watched them until she was out of sight. He turned his attention to the apartment. It was pleasant, simple and understated and elegant, and he felt utterly out of place.
Depositing the rifle in the front hall, he walked carefully into the living room and stared helplessly at what looked like a ridiculously expensive sofa. In fact, everything in the room looked ridiculously expensive. Frank opted to just stand.
Quickly throwing off her suit, she found a pair of yoga pants and a tank top that didn't look too bad, and donned them. Letting her hair down, she took a brief look at herself in the mirror. Dark circles were under her eyes and she looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Great.
Well there was nothing she could do about that now. Rushing back into the living room, she stopped and, with a smile in her voice, she said, "It's a sofa, Mr. Castle. I do believe you know how those work? If not, I can provide adequate instruction. I'm sure there's a manual somewheres." She couldn't help it. Teasing him was so different than teasing Tony. Plus, it didn't help that he looked like he hadn't smiled in weeks.
"I know," Frank answered, still staring dubiously at the sofa."But it looks like it cost you a shit load of money..."He didn't add the part about how he didn't want to fuck it up or get it dirty, but he figured she knew. She seemed like the kind of girl who could pick up on stuff like that. "I can just stand. I'm used to it."
He turned to her and stopped for a moment, surprised. If anything, she looked better than she had out on the street, nice and natural and lovely. He cleared his throat and turned away, looking for the kitchen. "Let's go see what there is to eat," he said, sounding stupid in his own ears.